


Requisition Form

by mapleandmahogany



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: M/M, SHIELD Husbands, workplace shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-15
Updated: 2013-04-15
Packaged: 2017-12-08 13:22:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/761796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mapleandmahogany/pseuds/mapleandmahogany
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Phil's responsibility to approve Clint's paperwork. Regardless of what he submits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Requisition Form

**Author's Note:**

> My thanks to Abigail89 for the speedy beta!

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Clint said, knocking on Phil's already open door.

"I do. And I appreciate your promptness, Agent Barton."

"Your message said ASAP." Clint indicated his mobile phone in his hand. Phil had sent him an official inter-agency DM, not a personal text, so he was expecting business.

The two of them were well past ‘dating’ but hadn't yet got around to talking about long term commitment. Their roles at SHIELD were so well-defined that their personal life hadn't had any negative effect on their work. Besides, Clint had too much respect for Agent Phil Coulson, as professional, and was damn proud when his handler sent him on special assignment. He liked to believe that it was because he'd earned his stripes and not because the boss was a little bit in love with him.

"Shut the door, if you would, please?" Phil said, barely glancing up from the file in his hand. "And lock it."

Clint did as asked, mentally preparing to be briefed on a high level assignment but rather than stand at attention, he went around and sat on the edge of Phil's desk in front of him. He might take their jobs seriously, but Clint was all about doing whatever he could to make his boyfriend's life easier. Phil had that tightness in his jaw and shoulders like he had a difficult decision to make. Clint squeezed Phil's shoulder and ran his fingertips up the base of Phil's skull and gently scratched the hairline.

"What do you need, boss?"

Phil closed his eyes for just a moment and then sat back into his chair, pulling away from his touch and sighed.

"I've been catching up on the week's memos and 41-Bs," Phil said, his voice heavy. "And then I get to this." He flipped the SHIELD file folder over in his hand.

"What's that? Fury send something new over?"

"No. This is came from inside." Phil opened the folder and held up a standard fill-in-the-blank form 41-B. "From Agent Clint Barton."

It came back to him then: four days earlier Clint was exhausted, hitting the low of a post-mission adrenaline let-down, lonely and horny, missing Phil who hadn't returned yet from his own assignment, so he decided to take out his momentary bitterness towards SHIELD, and evil do-ers, and the universe at large, with an old fashioned prank: he submitted an official requisition form for sexual favors from his immediate supervising agent.

Clint had gone to quarters afterwards, shaking with fatigue and slept for twelve hours, forgetting all about the form in the haze of previous 48-hour day. Phil had returned while Clint slept and they proceeded to spend another eight hours in bed before returning to regular shift rotation.

"Oh. Shit. Um…" Clint hemmed, eyes wide and pursing his lips to stifle a laugh. "I forgot about that." A nervous laugh blurted out, but he tried to clamp it down immediately when he realized that Phil still looked perfectly serious. "Uh, sorry?" He cleared his throat, trying to make his voice normal, steady. "I was – well, okay, remember you were still gone and I was really tired and kinda pissy, so...yeah.”

"Yes, well. Be that as it may, this is official now."

Clint snorted out another laugh but kept rubbing his knuckles against his jaw in effort to keep a straight face.

"Come on, it’s not really. It just sucked we kept missing each other last month. I missed you." He touched the toe of his boot against Phil's knee, trying for sweet and cute. "I thought you'd think it was funny?" 

The last sentence slipped into an upspeak question because he was beginning to not be able to tell if Phil was actually pissed or not. He hadn't broken his poker face yet but that didn't necessarily mean he was really angry.

What Phil did was raise one eyebrow, giving him a severe gaze before shifting his focus to the paper in his hand. 

"Box 7 of item request is listed 'one blowjob'." He paused to side-eye Clint before continuing. Clint pressed his lips together and held his breath to keep from laughing. "In Box 8 under optional specifications and description, you have clarified 'to be provided by my immediate supervising handler, Agent Phil Coulson.’ I appreciate being named, by the way. What would you have done if you'd gotten a change of assignment this week? And here, this detail I particularly appreciate; 'spit or swallow at handler's discretion.' That's very kind, but _discretion_? You don't know the meaning of the word."

Clint shrugged one shoulder.

"Well, I wanted to be flexible, um ...sir." Clint's voice had gone higher with defensiveness and suppressed giggles.

Phil gave him an 'it's too late' glance and let out a sniff of disdain.

"Oh, I'm _sure_." Phil went on. "And here, just in case there was any question about what it was you were requesting, you've elaborated the description; blowjob, fellatio, head -- on an _official_ form. Actual _paper_ , Barton.”

“You’ve always said I should try to be more precise with my paperwork!”

“Oh, and you _were_. Though I do believe you when you say you were exhausted because I am certain that you know several more phrases for the same meaning.”

“I do, sir. I can tell you more if you like,” Clint said. Phil knew them all, too, of course, but he was happy to let Phil play modest if that’s what this game was.

Clint chuckled and reached for the form but Phil pulled it out of his reach. “I don’t think so.”

“Come on. Sorry, okay? Give it here, I’ll toss it out.” He tried to reach for it again but Phil put one hand up in the air stopping him and held the paper back. 

“You can not destroy this. This is a legal document.” Phil held up the paper and pointed at it. “It has a raised seal and serial number because it has been properly submitted through the chain of command. I am required to acknowledge this. Legally.”

Clint couldn’t quite keep himself from smirking, but he rubbed a hand over his mouth and cleared his throat. He was pretty sure that wasn’t strictly true, that Phil could disappear any paperwork he chose to; but then again, Clint hadn’t submitted many 41-Bs. Maybe Phil was actually irritated and was just holding back tearing into him because of their relationship?

“I’m sorry?” Clint offered, just in case. “No, really. I am.”

“Hm.” Phil hmph’d, like he didn’t buy it. He considered the requisition form one more time before putting it into a desk drawer. “You’ve left me no choice here, agent. I can only see one acceptable option for me. Come here.”

“Wait. Huh?” But Clint was already shifting at Phil’s instruction, sliding over to stand in front of him.

“Do you know how often you’ve submitted a 41-B?”

Clint didn’t give the question much consideration because Phil’s hands were on his hips. “Uh, no. Not very many, though.”

“Only three times. Always for non-assigned aircraft so you could pilot rescue missions. They were emergency situations. Code 11-80. I can write that off.”

“You keep track of that?” 

Phil tilted his head and raised an eyebrow again.

“Right, no. Of course you do.”

“Agent Barton.” Phil squeezed Clint’s hips just a little more tightly. “You never request equipment beyond what is already assigned to you.”

Clint wasn’t sure where this new thread of conversation was headed but Phil was definitely flirting with him, pawing at him, so he was happy to play along.

“Well, SHIELD always gives me what I need. Or, I guess _you_ do, anyway.”

“I do,” Phil said, agreeing matter of factly but with just a tone of commitment in the words. “You haven’t had any disciplinary letters added to your file in a very long time.”

“Well, I’ve gotten smarter about who I’m an asshole around.”

“You are the best at it.”

“Hey!” Clint wriggled and tried to shove Phil’s shoulder for that, but Phil held him steady, keeping him at this farce of attention.

“And you’ve had two grade level promotions in the last eleven months.”

“It’s been a busy year. Aliens. Global threats. Stuff.”

“Do you know that your performance evaluations have been exemplary for five years running?”

Clint felt himself make a stupid duck-face as he rolled his eyes but he couldn’t help it. He was starting to blush; Phil was embarrassing him now.

“I think that’s because my handler’s sweet on me.”

“Hm.” Phil hummed again, and this time he almost nodded and let a smile crinkle at corners of his eyes, if not at his mouth. He kept hold of Clint by the waist, evaluating him. It gave Clint a warm, almost proud feeling to see Phil, currently played by Agent Coulson of SHIELD, look at him like that. Not to mention a familiar clenching ache in his balls.

“I’m going to disarm you, now, agent,” Phil said with just enough inflection that it could be broadly interpreted as asking for permission. He didn’t wait for acknowledgement though, just unsnapped the strap of Clint’s thigh holster, removing his P30 and set it on his desk.

“Boss?”

“Barton. After considering all relevant information, I can find no reason to deny your request.” Clint was jostled slightly as Phil yanked loose the velcro securing his holster belt and thigh strap.

“Is - is that so?”

“Mm-hm.” Phil put his hands on the button of Clint’s pants, pausing for a moment, because what? Clint was going to refuse? Not likely. But he had a role to keep playing here, he realized, and Phil was waiting on him. “Oh. Right. Thank you, sir?”

Phil snorted an exhale that Clint felt confident interpreting as amusement and stood still, shifting his weight and flexing in the right places to helpfully assist Phil as he opened and pulled his pants down.

“For real, you’re just gonna -- right here? In your office?” He grunted as his bare ass was backed into the ledge of Phil’s desk. 

“You’re the one who made this official,” Phil said, and without any further preamble, Phil put his mouth on Clint’s cock, swirled his tongue, wetting his lips and the shaft and going further down.

“On your actual fucking desk. Jesus.” Clint babbled, language slipping from his mind and leaving him with nothing but quiet gasps and exhales. 

Phil rolled his chair forward, his hands sliding around to Clint’s lower back, getting comfortable as he sucked slow, long pulls. He was as efficient at sucking cock as anything else he was driven to do, making almost none of the dirty wet slurping noises that Clint revelled in making when he had the pleasure. Instead, Phil made low, snuffling, rumbling sounds, all content and satisfied and smug. The bastard.

Clint’s upward gaze fixed on a space through the grates and beams, at the ceiling where he’d sat so many times before, looking down on Phil. He went there less often than he had in earlier years, when he’d needed to hide and be alone and check in on the one person that made him feel like he belonged.

Phil pulled off, and the sudden loss of sensation made Clint look at him. 

“You with me here, agent?” Phil asked, pleasant but Clint detected a hint of passive aggression, like he might have done during a boring intel meeting if Clint had been daydreaming. Only in this instance, Phil tilted his head, playfully, and the words were spoken while his lips were only a breath away from the soft, wet head of his cock. 

“I am, sir.” Clint got a little thrill of pleasure at Phil calling him agent like this, and felt the tiniest bit embarrassed for calling him ‘sir’. They’d never had difficulty using titles on the job once they started their relationship. Phil never used his position of authority to influence any aspect of their relationship, yet playing with the honorific felt as risky as doing this in Phil’s office in the first place. “I am so right here. Wherever you want me, Coulson.”

Phil hummed, somehow sounding proud and Clint clenched his knees against Phil’s ribs with a gasp. He cupped a hand over the back of Phil’s head, not even guiding, just following his movement. He stroked a finger through Phil’s hair and along his jaw and then it occurred to him how unusual it was to feel Phil’s collar and tie while he was sucking Clint off. They had sex in the shower, in bed, or even on their couch in the apartment, and on one memorable occasion on the kitchen floor, which they both swore would never do again, but they were always naked when they touched each other like this. Feeling Phil’s neck covered, his shoulders padded under his suit - hell, Clint noticed, his sleeves weren’t even rolled up. It was an unexpected turn on. It was like having his hands tied, not being able touch the skin. This wasn’t his boyfriend, it was his handler, his boss, his colleague, giving him a very thorough and very official blowjob. 

“This ain’t gonna last long, boss,” he said. Phil held him close, one hand around his ass, holding Clint where he wanted him, the other stroking to meet his mouth. Clint let his vision blur on the tiny stripes in Phil’s suit jacket, let his brain go fuzzy on the white noise of the technological hum in the building around them and felt nothing but Phil’s mouth on his cock and then he was gone...

He knew he’d made some emasculating high-pitched noise and felt his body all loose as Phil righted his uniform for him. Then Phil was standing in front of him, kissing him gently, sweetly. 

Clint smiled, knew he looked glassy-eyed and stupid, but he didn’t care. “Wow. Thanks, boss.”

Phil reached for his bottle of water, looking composed and calm but just a little pink in the cheeks.

Clint dipped his fingers into the front of Phil’s pants, his thumb prying at Phil’s belt.

“What are you doing?” Phil asked, a tone of shock in his voice.

“I...” Clint blinked. “I’m pretty sure I’m not gonna leave a guy hanging,” he said, cupping a hand over Phil’s erection to make his point.

“ _That_ ,” Phil pushed both Clint’s hands away and stepped back, “would be entirely inappropriate.”

“Ha. Right. And what was that top notch blowjob just now?”

Phil smirked, inclined his head slightly to acknowledge the compliment. “That was official, remember?”

“Okay, boss. Sure thing.” Clint chuckled. He recognized defeat when he saw it. He gave Phil another quick kiss, reached for his thigh holster and began fastening it. “You let me make it up to you later?”

“Oh, you can be sure. Particularly because Maria Hill has to sign off on all of _my_ paperwork.”


End file.
